Drabble Bending
by RedNovember
Summary: A collection of Avatar OneShots exploring different characters, pairings, and situations. Not ship focused or a continuing story.
1. Priorities

**Title: **Priorities  
**Author:** RedNovember  
**Word Count:** N/A  
**Warnings:** Death  
**Comments:** Written at 4:01 AM in the morning. Nothing much else. EXCEPT that I decided to turn this one-shot into a collection of one-shots at the suggestion of Dracori. So it's more than one ficlet now. Hope that makes you happy. This one is very open to interpretation.

* * *

**Priorities**

Victory came eventually, with the bright gouts of flame and whirling tornados and quaking earth under a muffled black sky lit with the coming of a second sun. Souzen's Comet.

It seemed brighter than day, how all the cool nights were turned into searing light by the flaming tail of a bad nightmare.

_Your tribe. Wasn't it badly damaged in the first attack?_

Families and friends and lovers had cried their grief and sorrow, pouring their last dying tears into the earth. The screams had split apart the sky and rang in her ears at night, driving ghosts deep into her head. Her mind had been her last refuge.

But, in the end, that had been taken away from her too.

Preparing for the last battle. Enormous armies gathering for both sides, men and women pledging their insignificant little lives to commanders and leaders who cared only about numbers and How many do the Enemy have?

_Your grandmother. How old is she again? I'm sorry. Doesn't seem like she has much time left, does she? Will you be able to see her again before she dies?_

Farmers took up scythes, pitchforks, and broken table legs to defend their few possessions againt the Enemy. They would protect their lives, their loved ones, and, on an obscure level, their country.

Honor? Did they kill with primitive weapons to defend their honor?

No.

Honor was for those who could afford it.

She had been fourteen. Two months and three days after she'd met the Avatar, the comet had returned as prophesized. People everywhere, fearful and desperate for a leader to rally around, had flocked to the last Air bender, a 12-year-old boy, seeking support and safety in large numbers. An unbelievable amount of human beings to form together as a force to oppose the Enemy.

He'd placed half under her, and the other half under her brother to command. I need to focus on my bending, he'd said. I trust you guys to do this.

Her brother had jumped into it with a sort of feverish enthusiasm, organizing troops and listening to advice from old men who'd fought in older days. He'd reveled and _lived_ in his position as a true, full-grown man who was trusted to lead an army. During the day, he thought out battle plans and strategies and placed checkpoints along supply lines and set out sentries to guard the borders of their gigantic camp. During the comet-lit night, he trained until his clothes were soaked through with sweat, until the Kyoshi warrior threw up her hands in the middle of a practice fight and said You better take a break because I sure need one.

All their old friends had come, the Earth bender boy and the freedom fighters lead by another boy. She came to trust them, to lean on them as she would lean on a walking cane with a broken foot. In the middle of a military rush, soft moments and even softer touches with the calm, strong Earth bender seemed to make everything easier to bear.

She had found him one morning, flesh blackened and peeling and bones charred to barely ashes. The Avatar had been kneeling next to the body, crying and saying I tried to save him but the Enemy is still too strong, too strong for me. I'm so sorry.

He had left to devote himself even more to learning his Enemy's element and she was left to stare at loss and pain and death and Power.

_Your brother. He's the same age as that Earth bender boy was, isn't he? What a shame. So young. With the way things are going, he doesn't seem to have much time left either, am I right?_

She had evaluated her Options. And she had made her Decision.

Katara stares at the small mound of earth. It's still damp, proving how recently the occupant underneath it was buried. There is no tombstone, just a straight wooden staff stuck at the head, a wooden staff that Katara knows could have become so much more, if things hadn't happened and the Enemy hadn't happened.

_Weak? You're not weak, Katara. You just know your priorities. You just know what's important to you in life. You know what matters. That's not weakness, love, that's strength._

A small breeze blows across the clearing, whispering through the few leaves that have already fallen on the grave. She could pretend that she saw a boy's bright eyes and even brighter smile. But then she would have been lying to herself, and she was sure she had stopped doing that a long time ago.

She turns and leaves the burial site, and tries to find happiness in the things that are still alive. The people that are still hers.

_Your tribe is regaining their footing. Your grandmother is doing well, I heard. I suppose she had a few more years left in her. Your brother too. It's a good thing he didn't die young like so many others did. You should be happy, Katara._

I am, Zuko.

_Good. I'm glad._


	2. Rebirth

**Title:** Rebirth  
**Author:** RedNovember  
**Word Count:** 241  
**Warning:** Death  
**Comments:** Written first for theavatar100 community at LJ, Challenge #17: Avatars past, present, and never. My take on Roku's disappearance. Decided to post it here because Dracori suggested that I post my one-shots on under one story name. Genius idea.

* * *

**Rebirth**

He'd known Fire first, the raging fever that consumed his body like a passionate lover.

And then came the Water, flowing ice-cold through his veins, like a mother's cool hand on his brow.

Earth had surprised him, how the dependable strength in his hands seemed like it'd always been there.

That free-flying Air had snuck up on him like a playful child, whisking breezes across his face with a flick of his fingers.

"Do you dare defy me?" Sozen hissed in the darkness of the dungeons, the silvery glint of a knife in the black.

In his subconscious, Roku wondered if anybody would ever know what became of the Avatar Roku. He supposed his successor would, but that didn't really count, since it was just himself reborn all over again. A neverending, sleepless cycle.

The memories weighed him down. Over a thousand years of lost family, bygone friends, and dead lovers.

There were moments when he wanted to forget his responsibilities. There were moments when he didn't care about the balance of the four elements. There were moments when he didn't give a bison's shit about how everybody needed him.

There were moments when he just wanted to Die.

He smiled at the shadow that was Sozen. "What do you think?"

Moving air, glimmer of watery silver, flash of bright flame, and a thunk on the earth.

Somewhere in an Air village, high up in the mountains, a still-bloody newborn wailed a cry of weariness at his own rebirth.


	3. Heaven and Hell

**Title: **Heaven, Hell, and Everything In-Between  
**Author: **RedNovember  
**Warnings:** Implied Z/K (don't read if allergic) and swearing  
**Word Count:** 500+  
**Comments:** I've gotten over my angsty little emo phase to actually write something today. Worked a bit more on chapter 6 of LTE but am still getting nowhere with el fin of THATP. However, did manage to waste time on another One-Shot.

* * *

**Heaven, Hell, and Everything In-Between**

He watches her from behind the foliage. He watches her yell good-naturedly at her brother, at the bison, at the Avatar. He watches her hug them, bestow her touch upon them and see how they accept it so casually. He watches her care for them, tend to their little injuries and fuss about them not sleeping enough. He watches the boys shrug her off carelessly as if too used to her attentions by now. He watches her continue to shove them the apples, snapping at them to eat or You'll lose your strength. He watches her become so caught up in the well-being of others that she forgets herself.

His first thought is for the boys. _You don't know how good you've got it._

His second thought is for himself. _A Prince should never be jealous of what lowly commoners have._

His third thought is for her. _If you don't watch it, you'll collapse from exhaustion._

The hidden gold eyes continue to follow the girl, and he tells himself to stop obsessing.

The Air bending boy is the one he should be tracking. Instead, _she_ commands his thoughts, draws his attention, and haunts his dreams to the point where he knows he can't stop _obsessing_ even if he really wanted to. Which he, perversely, does not.

Damn her to hell.

Eventually those two annoying little parasites leave and she's left alone in the clearing, humming something to herself while placing the apples back into a bag. He doesn't give a shit why the boys are gone and have left her by herself. All he knows is that she is alone and This Is His Chance.

He steps out of the cover of darkness and she turns in the sunlight, eyes catching on his figure.

She doesn't scream for help, or glare at him, or tell him that he's a bastardly little fucker who should just leave her and her friends alone.

What she does is reach into her bag and draw out an apple, holding it out in her hand towards him.

Before he touches that scarlet temptation (because he knows he will oh he knows he can't resist) he thinks about the paradise that is awaiting him at home if he does as his Father wishes. He could grasp her wrist and hold her hostage and the Avatar would do anything he asked. He could go home to a royal welcome, a lifetime of honor until the day he passes away. He could stay forever in his Eden if he just pleases his Father.

She's looking at him, an indescribable face, and that silent inquiry next to the blood-red offering like a warm living heart in the palm of her hand is tugging, pulling him every which way until-

he snatches it biting it tasting it the sweetness oh my the ecstasy.

She smiles, and he thinks to himself, _Will we burn in heaven like we do down here?

* * *

_

**Further Comments:** Many religious references. Sorry if I offend. I am agnostic myself, but believe we can all learn a great many things from every faith of the world.  
**Written:** 2:01 AM on August 24, 2005  
**Inspired by:** Sarach McLachlan CD, Surfacing  
**Dedicated to: **My wonderful supportive LJ friends who still talk to me even though I get bitchy and insecure sometimes. You know who you are.


	4. A Lesson in Remembrance

**Title**: A Lesson in Remembrance  
**Author:** RedNovember  
**Word Count:** 506  
**Warnings:** Aangst (literally)  
**Challenge:** #19 Lessons (for theavatar100)

* * *

**A Lesson in Remembrance**

She doesn't know he's watching. She doesn't know that everything she does, everything she says, everything she touches, he memorizes and commits to his memory. He tries to remember her scent, her voice, her laughter, her utter _essence_ that he wants to wrap himself in. He tries so hard to cement _her_ in his mind, so that when he dies, and is reborn again, he might have just an tickling, faint memory of this beautiful girl that he once loved in a past life.

He knows it's all useless.

How many lovers has the Avatar had? How many wives and husbands? How many children has he fathered and mothered? How many friends has he forgotten and outlived?

Even though every waking moment he spends around her, he drinks her in, feels her smile like the sun on his skin, he knows that the minute the life leaves this growing body of his, and he is reborn _yet again_, the name Katara will no longer mean a thing to him.

She won't exist in his memory. Her effortless grace, her affectionate teasing, her bright but oh-so-brief _life_, he will eventually forget. As he has forgotten all his other painfully short existences. He will die, come back, and he will not remember his wife, his children, his family.

People might remember. They might remember how that wonderful Avatar Aang had fallen in love with a beautiful Water bender, last in her tribe, and they'd had a progeny of beautiful children. Just as they spoke of Avatar Roku's grandchildren, and Avatar Kyoshi's elderly husband who had passed away from heartache not a day after Kyoshi had died at a venerable old age of seventy-eight. Kyoshi's grandchildren still lived on in the form of the women warriors and other villagers on the Island.

My grandchildren? He thought. I've probably even seen some of them while I was walking through Kyoshi. That girl there, that man there. Maybe they were my descendents. Maybe they shared my blood. Maybe once upon a time, I loved them.

It made him ache, the absence of so many thousands of years of loved ones living and dying and loving without his knowledge. How many times had he changed a diaper before? How many times had he smiled shyly at an attractive girl whom he would eventually woo and marry? How many times had he fallen in love before?

Let this be a lesson to you, Aang though to himself. Let this ache in your chest teach you the painful realities of love. It ends with death, and no amount of your foolish efforts to _remember her_ will do anything to change that.

Then she smiled (_sobeautifullynaïve) _at him, and asked, "What's wrong, Aang?"

"Nothing," he smiled back, ignoring the invisible teacher in him chastising him for making yet another mistake in the never-ending pain of life, death, and love. He blew those worrisome thoughts from his head like insignificant puffs of air, floating above him, disappearing into the wide blue sky.

* * *

**Comments:** Inspired by an Avatar Challenge that Red Hawk K'sani had in her profile (many thanks), even though I deviated from the guidelines and can't technically call it an answer to that challenge. But I also incoporated it into Challenge #19: Lessons, at the LJ community theavatar100. The challenge was issued by dungeonwriter (hotspur on fanfictionNET). 

Oh, Oh! I also forgot to tell you that my previous oneshot, "Rebirth" (chapter 2) won theavata100 contest! yay! Well that was actually awhile ago, but still.

I am usually a Z/K shipper, but I decided to take an oppurtunity to explore the canon realms of A/K. I've learned some things, but am still decidedly Z/K, do not worry, my readers. I just wanted to try it out.

**Music:** Lord of the Rings Return of the King Soundtrack (beautiful)


	5. Winter

**Title:** IV: Winter  
**Author:** rednovember  
**Word Count:** 114  
**Warnings:** Character death  
**Challenge:** #20 Seasons  
**Notes:** Originally wrote four (one for each season) but got too long. Here's the last one, the only one really worth reading. Maybe eventually I'll post the other ones.

* * *

Winter was war. It was separation, fighting, confronting old enemies (father?), and death.

Then it is just her. Only her.

It is visiting his grave. It is slicing her palm, baring her insides to the frozen air; bright crimson drops staining the soft whiteness covering his final resting place.

It is laying down beside him, resting her tan cheek against the icy mound; pretending the pallor of the snow is his pale, chilling skin against her own dark, warmth-filled body. It is imagining the red of her blood as the scar on his face.

If she presses her body as tightly as she can to his grave, she can almost feel summer again. Almost.


	6. Reason

**Title:** Reason  
**Author:** RedNovember  
**Word Count:** 240  
**Warnings:** None  
**Challenge:** #21 Justification  
**Notes:** At the end

* * *

"—that's unfair! The 41st division is full of new recruits! You can't just sacrifice untrained soldiers like that!" The hot-headed idiot Prince spoke out, rash words silencing the room and bringing a smile to Zhao's face.

_I knew my war strategy would incite the Prince's quick temper. He fell for it so easily._

Retired General Iroh's worried face filled his vision. "—Zuko will need somebody by his side, somebody to convince him to not give up, somebody to guide him and love him—"

_Two birds with one stone._

"—and because that fool son of mine went and disrespected me and shamed himself—" The Fire Lord raged on from his throne to Admiral Zhao in the otherwise empty hall. "What am I supposed to do if my only heir is a soft, weak, peace-lover?"

Zhao stared at the floor, still stuck in his stiff bow, subservient look plastered on his face. The Fire Lord thought Zhao was actually listening to him rant on, nodding every so often in perfect agreement to his words. Ozai thought the only thing good, obedient Admiral Zhao wanted was to serve and please his monarch. Zuko's father thought Zhao was bent in respect and eyes fixated on the feet of him, the Fire Lord of soon-to-be the entire world.

There was only one thing Zhao was staring at.

The golden throne of the Fire Lord glittered brightly in the torch light.

* * *

**Notes:** I'm not sure if Zhao was the one who came up with the plan that Zuko spoke out against in "The Storm", but for the purposes of this story I have changed it to be so. 


	7. Facts of Life

**Title:** Facts of Life  
**Author: **Rednovember  
**Word Count:** 149  
**Warnings:** Humorous smut  
**Challenge:** None  
**Notes:** At the end

* * *

The metal walls of his ship are supposed to be sound-proof. Including the wall between his own room and his uncle's.

But some things leak through.

The creak of mattress springs, clink of chains, snap of a whip, a young woman's laughter and an older man's chuckling.

Zuko curls up in a corner, rocking back and forth. "I don't hear anything. I don't hear anything," he whimpers to himself.

In the other room, Jun smiles at Iroh. "Maybe you should have a talk with your nephew tomorrow morning."

Iroh sighs. "It's about time he should know."

_THE NEXT DAY:_

"Now, Zuko my boy," Iroh begins, sitting down in front of his nephew. "There are some facts of life I think you deserve to know. First off, when a man is in chains and a woman has a whip—"

Screaming, Zuko leaps off the side of the boat.

* * *

**Notes:** Inspired by a hilarious conversation with Hotspur on LJ. The credit for this really has to go to her. She's genius, if not a bit perverted (but then aren't we all?). Obviously we were talking about the Iroh/Jun connection in the recent Episode 15! Iroh's such a dirty old man. Poor Zuko. 


	8. Once Upon A Time

**TITLE:** Once Upon A Time  
**AUTHOR:** RedNovember  
**WORDCOUNT:** 179  
**WARNING:** None  
**CHALLENGE:** #23 Culture Clash (theme stretched)

**NOTES: **Nothing, except that #6 drabble, "Reason", about Admiral Zhao, won at theavatar100 for the week. Yay. Let's see if this one's any better. BTW, thanks for all the great reviews.

* * *

**Once Upon A Time**

He finally finds her outside, thin shoulders concealed by blue robes drenched from the rain.

"It's so hot here in the Fire Nation," she says, looking out over the garden. Her voice is sing-song, cheerful, like she enjoys the conversation they aren't having. "Too warm. Always too warm. I don't like it." The unceasing downpour turns everything - her, himself, the garden - into a wispy gray landscape.

"And the people - too many people here. I don't like it." The garden is empty but for the two of them and the gentle pattering of the rain; her light voice echoes.

She stands there like a statue, ignorant of the wetness on her face and body. "The heat - the crowds. I can hardly stand it all."

Then she turns, faces him, blue gaze swimming with calm insanity: a mind pushed too far, too fast, too soon. "There's no air left to breathe."

Zuko lifts one hand towards her. "Let's go inside, Katara. It's getting cold."

She shakes her head _no_ slowly, giving him a patronizing smile.

"Too warm. Always too warm."


	9. Winner

**TITLE:** Winner  
**AUTHOR:** RedNovember  
**WORDCOUNT:** 114  
**WARNING:** Bad attempt at humor.  
**CHALLENGE:** #24 Crossover

**NOTES:** This is for all you Naruto fans. I apologize for any brain damage.

* * *

"My honor is non-existent!" Prince Zuko threw a flaming fireball at Uchiha Sasuke, who narrowly avoided it by dodging lightening-quick to the side.

"My entire family is dead!" Sasuke shouted back, letting loose an almost invisible barrage of blows at the Prince.

"My father banished me from my nation!" Zuko twisted and kicked out, striking Sasuke in the stomach.

"My brother is the _reason_ my family's dead!" Sasuke punched the Prince in the jaw.

"I have the ugliest damn scar in the history of all angst-crazed teenage boys!" Prince Zuko roared.

Sasuke slowed his attack, then stopped. The shinobi bowed his head.

"I surrender to your superiority, Prince Zuko. You are a true master, worthy of my utmost respect."


	10. Bad Plotlines Strike Again

**TITLE:** Bad Plotlines Strike Again  
**AUTHOR:** RedNovember  
**WORDCOUNT:** 100, baby!  
**WARNINGS:** None  
**CHALLENGE:** #25, Rewriting History  
**NOTES:** At the end

* * *

"... we could make a trade," said the Prince, circling around the pole the Water bender girl was tied to. "Your freedom, and the necklace, for the Avatar. Understand?" 

Her eyes fixated on her mother's necklace, dangling in his hand, before dragging her gaze away and putting on a resolute face. "No. I won't betray Aang."

"Fine," growled Zuko. "Then I guess I'll just have to take you with me and use you as bait to capture the Avatar, while at the same time working my angsty bad-boy good looks to make you fall totally in love with me!"

Silence.

Katara gaped at him. "WTF?"

* * *

**A/N: **Poking fun at the Zutara writers (OMG LIKE MYSELF) who've drained us with this overused plotline. 

My apologies.


	11. Inconcievable!

**TITLE:** Inconcievable!  
**AUTHOR:** rednovember  
**WORD COUNT:** 200-something  
**CHALLENGE:** 26, fish out of water

* * *

The cabbage man woke up and decided it would be a good day to sell cabbages. He could taste it in the air- the smell of hungry shoppers in the market.

He pushed his covered cart through the still-empty streets. His precious cabbages were covered by brown canvas cloths, in order to protect them from the cold and dew in the morning. He arrived at his normal spot, next to a merchant of celery. The cabbage man wasn't threatened by this other vegetable vendor at all; everybody knew celery was an inferior vegetable. Unlike the holiness that was his cabbage stock.

Humming happily to himself, the cabbage man pulled off the cloth over his cabbages in a regal _swish_.

And stopped dead when he saw what had been hiding under the canvas.

Carrots.

Blinding orange in the sunlight, their long, thin bodies were obscenities in his cart.

He couldn't breathe.

"You alright?" asked the celery merchant.

"Carrots!" the cabbage man managed to squeak out. "Carrots!"

"So just sell the carrots today," shrugged the celery man, turning back to his own cart. "No big deal."

"Sell... carrots?" squeaked the cabbage man in a high-pitched voice. "You want me to sell... _carrots_?"

His eyes rolled up in his head, and he fell to the ground in a dead faint.

* * *

Alright, whodunnit? Who's the smart-ass who stole my man's cabbages?

Gracias for the 100+ reviews!


	12. What Do You Need?

**TITLE:** What Do You Need?  
**AUTHOR:** RedNovember  
**WORDCOUNT:** 110  
**WARNINGS:** EPISODE 18 SPOILERS!  
**CHALLENGE:** #27, The Choice

* * *

It was a beautiful necklace, intricately carven from a perfect blue gem. 

A betrothal, cold and binding, held in her hands.

Healer's hands, hands that did a gentle woman's work, saving lives and soothing wounds. Hands that needed, wanted, to feel the rush of the water, the ice of battle and sweet, triumphant victory.

Kana would take the necklace with her; she would give it to someone who deserved it, someone who would perhaps meet Paku one day in the future and explain to him why a newly engaged, beautiful Water healer had made her choice to leave for the Southern Water Tribes.

And she knew he would understand.

* * *

**A/N:** Was kind of curious about the events behind Katara's Gran-Gran's departure from the Northern Water Tribe. My take on it. 


	13. Gone

First off:

**OMG WTF WHO SAW SEASON FINALE. Ok, because if you haven't, don't read this drabble. Thank you.**

**Title:** Gone  
**Author:** RedNovember  
**Word Count: **45 (no more needed)  
**Warning: GIGANTIC HUGE ASS SPOILERS FOR FINALE** and Yue/Sokka  
**Challenge: **#28: Unseen

* * *

She was the Moon, and everything about her was an illusion. 

But he swore he could taste warm lips against his own, soft hands against his face, and when he touched her hair, he could feel the shining strands of light between his fingers.

* * *


	14. Hell

**Title:** Hell**  
Author:** RedNovember  
**Word Count:** 67  
**Warnings:** Sex (Nothing explicit) **  
Challenge:** #030: Schadenfreude

_**A/N:**_ This week's challenge was "schadenfreude", a word of German origin ("schaden" harm and "freude" joy), that is used to describe that happy feeling you get when something bad happens to someone else.

* * *

"True evil enjoys sinning," Zhao whispers low in her ear under the red silk covers. 

As he bites, hot and dark, at her neck, she remembers the events of the morning: her father destroying her brother.

Smiling at this rush in her memory, she wraps her legs around Zhao's hips.

_If I were in heaven,_ Zula thinks, arching her back, _I would be so very, very unhappy.

* * *

_

**Notes:** Written because Zhao/Zula is my new crack OTP. And it just worked._  
_


	15. Scandal

**Title: **Scandal  
**Author: **RedNovember  
**Word Count:** 125  
**Warnings:** Potty Words

* * *

They'd gotten used to living this way: the breathless rush of the dark somewhere (anywhere), we _shouldn't_ , really, but—oh my.

And, in the end, knowing it was pleasure only because it was forbidden.

They find out (of course) and take her prince away.

The things, the rumors, the talk: At least his father was up front about taking over the world. The prince is just a bastard trying to do the same thing; he beds her because he thinks maybe she'll love him and then he'll have half the fucking world under his rule.

Katara, still lying in "the bed the prince got into", thinks at least the _fucking world_ is still safe from him and her.

Because she already knows that love conquers nothing.

* * *

**A/N: **Actually wrote this for theavatar100 challenge at LJ a couple weeks ago. Only realized today that I hadn't posted it here.  



	16. Listen

**TITLE:** Listen  
**AUTHOR: **Rednovember  
**WORD COUNT:** 65  
**RATING:** Angst  
**CHALLENGE:** #36 - "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening" (theme is _stretched_)

* * *

A brief moment of miscalculation, of misunderstanding--and there he was, his nephew (my _son_) lying on the bed, faced covered by the pure white of bandages, except for that red-brown stain, poisoning his left eye.

A shadow of movement; Zuko turned his head (Can he see me?) and a soft croak in his throat: "Father?"

Iroh's heart clenched tight, so tight it _stopped_.

"I'm here, Zuko."

* * *

**A/N:** Originally written for Hotspur's birthday and thought it just barely fit the theme this week. Happy 20th, dear! 


	17. So Good

**TITLE:** So Good  
**AUTHOR: **Rednovember  
**WORD COUNT:** 86  
**WARNING:** Crack humor  
**CHALLENGE:** None—this is for eviltallestjac's birthday.

* * *

Aojiro was the most... accomodating lover she'd ever had. He was gentle, soft, undemanding. A nice man.

Sometimes Jun got mad at him for being so--so controllable. Sometimes, she didn't want light touches and close whispers. Sometimes, she wanted hurt and pain and blood (come _on_).

"If you'd really wanted fire and excitement," Aojiro whispered, biting her ear, "Then you would have left with that Fire Nation Prince a long time ago."

"I had him," she said, nudging back.

"And? How was he?"

Pause.

"Lukewarm."

* * *

**A/N: **Confused? Well over on the avatar fans LJ community, right after the end of Episode 14 (The Fortuneteller) there was this whole spiel about who that mysterious white-haired man was, the one always standing in front of Aunt Wu's house. Remember him? Well we got to speculating and somebody dubbed him "Aojiro", and the name stuck. For her birthday, Jac requested a drabble with Jun/Aojiro, and I delivered. XD This is my attempt at crack!humor.

Yay.

On a more somber note, LTE and TC are both on semi-hiatus. This is my last year of middle school, which is when grades start to count and appear on college transcripts. I'm going to maintain my A average, so it's good-bye writing for a bit. School and life is getting to me—drabbles are about all I can crank out at the moment.


	18. Sacrifices Made

**Title:** Sacrifices Made  
**Author:** Rednovember  
**Word Count:** 19  
**Challenge:** #43 Sacrifices  
**Warnings:** None  
**Nots:** Very open to interpretation.

* * *

**Sacrifices Made**

When she wakes without his heat in their bed, she remembers how the cold never used to bother her.

--x--

* * *

A/N: Wrote it with Zutara in mind (the heat and cold idea) but it could really be interpreted as anything. Was also originally part of the _52 Flavours of Fire and Water_ collection for the prompt "Wake Unto Me", but since I deleted that, and it happened to kind of fit with the theme at theavatar100 this week, I'll post it here. I'm getting better at this minimalist, one-sentence thing. XD It's a relief after LTE.  



	19. Et Tu, Brute?

**TITLE:** Yours and Mine  
**AUTHOR:** RedNovember  
**WORDCOUNT:** 113  
**WARNING:** Wishful thinking  
**CHALLENGE:** #46: Et tu, brute?

* * *

Don't think I don't see the way you look at her, brother.

Don't think I don't see the obvious light of infatuation in your eyes. You delude yourself, thinking you hide it so well. But I can smell your scent, left on the marriage bed _I_ share with her.

Don't think I don't see the way your eyes follow her swollen belly, the little gifts you press into her hands; a baby's chew toy, a tiny red blanket of silk, all fit for a soon-to-be-born prince.

You think it's yours. But let me tell you something. If the child is mine, then it's mine.

And if the child is yours?

It's still mine.

* * *

**AN:** Haven't done one of these in forever. I remember awhile ago there was some discussion about the possibility of Iroh being Zuko's father, which is what spawned this. Yes, it's Ozai talking. 


	20. Surfacing

For a wonderful friend, Kawaii-lyn. Congratulations on graduating! ♥

**TITLE: **Surfacing   
**AUTHOR:** RedNovember  
**CHALLENGE: **NONE  
**WORDCOUNT: **Definitely over 100--3000 ish.  
**BETA'D BY (thank you!):** Melodiee  
**NOTES:** Yes I know it's quite a bit longer than a drabble--call it a very short story or a ficlet. I just didn't want to make a separate "story" for a one-chapter 3,000 word thing 'cause that seems like cheating to me. And I like to keep my Stories space organized.

* * *

**Surfacing****  
**

On the outskirts of the tiny village of Tishuan, there lived a water-witch. She'd arrived sometime after the War, and moved into the abandoned hut by the water's edge, off the path that led back to the main road. She made no trouble, coming into the market on occasion only to buy the essentials—a jar of salt, a packet of sugar, some mangoes when they were in season (but never papayas; she hated papayas).

The villagers treated her as they would treat anybody else, but perhaps with a bit more silent respect because rumors were rumors, and there was always a seed of truth in talk, no matter how crazy or unbelievable. The people of Tishuan, who were simple, honest folk, treated the water-witch well, and she treated them kindly in return. When the weather got bad—once, a freak storm during harvest-time—they came out in the aftermath to find their crops undisturbed, the water pooling obediently back into the lake, making a wet track around the fields, as if following an outside command. It was said water from the well at Tishuan tasted sweeter, better than the wine that filled Fire Lord Zuko's goblet in his high palace, and the lake swelled with fish in the summer.

Talk continued though, when the water-witch received special visitors in the summertime. A small patrol of soldiers dressed in conspicuous red armor thundered by the track—the villagers drew in their small children, hid in their houses, although technically it _was_ peacetime, the Avatar's peace, but there was an instinctual fear and finger-clenching anxiety that came with the sight of those red helmets, the snorting rhinos—however, the men of the Fire Nation were turned away at the hut by the slight, blue figure of the inhabitant, her set, firm face shaking an emphatic _no_.

She refused to say anything to them, reported Shen, the village gossip and washerwoman, She just kept shaking her head until they left! Shocking behavior, acting like that towards a patrol of fully-armed Firebenders, even if the war was over.

She's brave, remarked the innkeeper.

Or just stupid, Shen grumbled, splashing a shirt in her tub.

But she wasn't really either, as most of the villagers knew. There was one more explanation, why the water-witch could stand up so forcefully to the Fire Lord's men and not be punished—she was the Avatar's friend, disappeared at the end of the war along with her brother—

It wasn't until the Fire Lord himself arrived that the people of Tishuan began to think there might have been more truth in those rumors than previously thought.

It was the high peak of summer, buzzing flies and waving stalks of grain. A lone rider on a rhino came lumbering down the main road, causing the children playing hide-and-seek in the berry bushes to squeak in dismay and tumble down the beaten track back towards the village.

Stop bothering, scolded one annoyed mother.

Fire soldiers weren't exactly an anomaly anymore—many had been discharged from the army following the end of the war, and a few wandered the land peacefully, stopping at an occasional village for food and rest before leaving the next morning, usually with a generous tip. They provided good business, these men without homes.

But his helmet! cried the son, his playmates chattering about him in agreement. Under his helmet, Ma—

His helmet _what_?

_Under_ his helmet, Ma, his _face_—a _scar_—

By noontime, a small assembly of nervous villagers had gathered at the head of the trail leading down to the water-witch's hut. The adults felt foolish, huddling behind the trees, but nobody wanted to step out in the open to fully confront this—this—was it really the Fire Lord?

The rhino rumbled to a stop in front of the hut, a brassy, lowing growl coming from its tired mouth—the village children squealed and clutched their mothers' skirts, although they were quite a distance away from the rhino, the Fire Lord (if it _was_ indeed Lord Zuko), and the water-witch.

The man on top of the animal swung down from the saddle, pulling off his helmet slowly—it must have been a horror wearing that thing, in this heat—his ink-black hair emerged, followed by—yes, it was him—a face scarred and scowling.

The children moaned and buried their faces while the adults looked worriedly at each other, what in the world was the Fire Lord doing here, was the water-witch in fact some sort of criminal, were they all in trouble, oh _no_.

I knew she was no good, Shen said, her calloused fingers wringing her skirts anxiously.

Shut up, scowled one of the farmers. We have her to thank for the year's harvest.

There'll be no harvest at all if she angers Lord Zuko and he ends up burning down everything he can get his hands on!

The audience watched anxiously as the Fire Lord approached the steps of the hut, hesitating for just a moment before knocking on the thin, wooden door.

The villagers could just see it swing open, revealing a curious, tanned face—then slam shut with a sharp crack, startling the birds in the nearby trees.

The Fire Lord looked surprised, before his face resumed its customary scowl and he knocked on the door again, with more force this time.

"Katara!" he called. "Come on, open the door!"

The villagers fluttered amongst themselves—it _was _her—the Avatar's friend—Master Waterbender, one who'd fought in the War—oh my—indeed—

The door to the hut remained resolutely closed. The Fire Lord banged on it several more times, growling and grumbling, even attempting to force it open with his body once.

"Don't make me burn my way in, Katara!" he finally called, standing back and running a hand through his hair.

"You wouldn't." The slightly muffled reply came from inside.

"Try me."

"Fine, I will."

Lord Zuko placed a flat palm against the thin, dry wood of the door. Almost immediately smoke began to issue from under his fingers, the area around his hand glowing red. At this sight, the village children squealed and the adults patted their heads nervously.

When flames began licking at the wood around the Fire Lord's hand, the door sprang open again, although the villagers still couldn't see the water-witch—what was her name, oh, Katara—and an exasperatedly scolding voice drifted out with the smoke: "Why can't you ever _control_ yourself, Zuko; at this rate you'll end up burning down the entire village—"

The farmers murmured darkly amongst themselves, but before Katara could continue, the Fire Lord had shoved his way inside against her protests ("Hey! You can't do that—hey!") and slammed the singed and still-smoking door behind him.

The villagers and children stood stick-still, looks of confusion (or horror) on their faces.

The door sprang open again, the head of the Fire Lord sticking out to stare directly at them, a terrible scowl on his scarred face. "GET BACK TO WORK!" he roared, before the witch's voice rose from behind him, in the hut: "Zuko, you monster! For the love of all that is holy—leave them _alone_—"

One of the village children wet his pants as they all raced back to the safety of their homes.

"You better have a good explanation for all this," Katara said tightly, one foot tapping ominously against the wooden planks that made up the floor of her home. Zuko stood in the corner, shaking off dust as he removed the shoulder plates of his armor.

"Blasted thing," Zuko said, throwing the metal to the floor. Looking around, he spied the one chair Katara had in the house and sank down onto it gratefully, the wooden pegs beneath him squeaking in protest.

"Stop ignoring me!"

"Hypocrite," he said easily, tilting his head back to study her with that gaze she always found so disconcerting. "If you hadn't ignored all my messages—I even sent a troop of soldiers out here to deliver a letter to you, but apparently—you being the ungrateful peasant you are—you just kicked them off your porch like you tried to do me."

"You come barging into my house and then proceed to _insult_ me," Katara huffed as if she hadn't heard any of what he had just said, pacing the floor in front of him, "you watch yourself, Mr. High and Mighty Fire Lord—I have an entire lake at my disposal right outside my door."

"In case you haven't noticed, Miss Rude and Ungrateful Water Peasant, we are smack in the middle of an uncommonly hot summer, and," One finger went up to point at the sky through the shingled roof, "the noon sun is straight overhead, which would make _me_ the default winner if any sort of battle did take place."

"Oh, you're so sure of yourself, aren't you?" she said snidely.

He stared back at her without any sort of expression on his face. "Stop acting like a child."

"Stop telling me what to do! That's always been your problem. You—you think you can just order everybody around and everybody'll listen to you, just like that, but—but you can't, you just _can't_—"

"Aang's wedding is in a week."

Katara froze. Zuko ran his eyes over her face, as if drinking in every emotion he could see there.

She melted, her limbs beginning to move again, her face resuming her previous scowl. "Yeah. I know."

"So you read the letter my messengers brought?"

"Before I ripped it up and burned it to ashes."

"I thought you liked Toph."

" 'Like' is a broad term."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning anything from 'I put up with her' to 'On occasion I want to wring her pathetic little neck, but I manage to control myself most of the time.' "

Zuko raised an eyebrow. "Then let me ask this: aren't you happy for Aang?"

She gritted her teeth. "Yes."

"… really?"

"_Yes!_ Yes I _am_ happy for him!"

When his expression didn't change, she clenched her fists at her side and all but yelled, "OF COURSE I'M HAPPY FOR HIM!"

He backed off. "All right, all right, don't hurt yourself."

Katara paced again, tugged on a bit of her hair, bit the knuckle of her right index finger, and then snapped around to face him. "And before you ask, yes I am jealous. But no, I'm not jealous of Toph, no matter what you might think."

"Call me a skeptic, but I find that increasingly hard to believe." He mimicked her, purposefully raising his voice squeaky-high: "_On occasion I want to wring her pathetic little neck—_"

"Shut up," she said scathingly. Then she flopped to the ground, back against the wall opposite from him. "I'm _jealous_," she began, "Of the fact that my best friend is getting married. My best friend, who's two years younger than me! In fact, he's getting married to my _other_ not-so-best friend, who's _also_ significantly younger than me. And my brother! My idiot, good-for-nothing brother, who could never get a date in his life—he got married a year ago, to a wonderful, strong, independent woman warrior—I mean, I love my brother, but really, what were the possibilities of _him_ getting married before _me_—"

Katara stopped, taking a deep breath. "And _I_ was supposed to marry a powerful bender! Not Toph! _She_ never went through the trouble of visiting a fortune teller, the hard work of getting your palm read—"

Zuko held up a hand. "Wait a minute. I feel like we should be discussing this at a birthday party in front of a warm fire, sipping hot chocolate and giggling every time the word 'penis' is mentioned. I feel like a teenage girl listening to this. Don't you feel like a teenage girl, saying this?"

"I'm a _young woman_, thank you very much," she glared up at him.

"Oh, yeah," Zuko said, standing up and looking around him in distaste. "And you're really going to get a whole bunch of marriage proposals, hiding out in a nowhere dump like this."

"It's not a 'nowhere dump'", Katara said icily, also getting to her feet. "The people here are very nice."

Zuko scoffed. "Peasants."

"At least they're not egotistical monarchs with megalomaniac god complexes," she shot back.

He walked across the room as if he hadn't heard her, approaching the frail wooden frame of the bed covered by a thin straw mattress. The Fire Lord sat down on the worn blue blanket, an uncertain, indecipherable look on his face as the frame creaked warningly under him.

"You're like a hermit," he said, turning to face her again. "You have no chances out here, aside from the limp collection of farmer boys in that village. Honestly, what kind of high quality, respectable man would drag himself all the way out here just to find _you_?"

His golden eyes slid away at the last part, and Katara's blue ones widened.

A silence descended upon the cabin.

Zuko worried at a loose thread on the blanket with one finger; Katara continued to stare.

After a few more moments, she cleared her throat, and slowly sat down next to him on the bed, gently enough that nothing squeaked or made a noise.

"He'd have to be off in the head," she said quietly.

"Absolutely deranged," he replied, just as softly.

"Insane," she agreed.

Another minute of nothing.

Then Zuko stood up, rotating his shoulders, still not meeting her gaze. He made a sort of _ahem_ noise in his throat and said, "Come on. Aang wants you there for his wedding. Kept going on about needing another bridesmaid or something."

"Only if I get to pick the dress colors."

"Uh-uh," Zuko said, shaking his head as if all hope had long been lost, "Toph's already done that."

"She's blind."

A pause. "Exactly."

Katara clicked her tongue in sad horror. "I can already tell this wedding's desperately in need of my help."

"Good," Zuko said, heading for the door and shifting into his armor, "Let's go then."

"What?" she squawked. "But I—but I'm not ready—my stuff—"

He stalked back, picking up the one thing other than the bed and the chair in the hut—a large, worn-out blue pack, and he heaved it onto his shoulder, turning for the door again. Then, as if on second thought, he whirled around, yanking the blanket from the mattress, sending a flurry of dust into the sunlit air.

"Anything else?" he said.

"Well—no, but—wait—"

"All right. Come on then." He led the way out the door which had a newly singed black handprint planted in the middle.

Katara closed her gaping mouth and trotted after him, watching as he settled his helmet back on his head. Without another word, he lifted her up by the waist (she held in a shriek) and perched her on top of the rhinoceros. She wavered from side-to-side for a few shaky moments before he leapt on in front of her, her pack and blanket swinging from one armored shoulder. He made a slight sound with his mouth, gently tapping the rhino with his heels, and they began to move at a steady pace. Katara kept her eyes on the lake and the hut which had been her home for these past few months. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a sight of two of the village children flashing away in the bushes. Probably running back to the village to report their sightings.

"And about that fortune teller," Zuko began after a few moments in silence, the gait of the rhinoceros rolling gently beneath them, "don't tell me you actually believe in that kind of thing?"

Katara shrugged slightly before she remembered that he couldn't see her, and probably couldn't feel her through the armor.

"Well," she said, eyes on the tall, waving stalks of grain they were passing by, "that depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Depends on whether or not I find a powerful bender. Preferably male. And good

looking. And rich."

Zuko mumbled, a noise that resounded strangely in his metal helmet.

"What was that?" she asked.

"I said, _I'm_ a powerful bender."

She covered her surprise (and a bit of a warm feeling developing in her chest) by quipping back, "And real modest too."

"And I'm male."

"I sure hope so."

"And seeing as how I'm Fire Lord, I'm probably the richest man on the planet."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're going to make me faint."

"And I think I'm justified in saying that I'm not bad looking either." But this last statement wasn't said with the same confidence and arrogance that had accompanied the previous ones, though he tried to hide it. _That blasted scar_, Katara thought.

"With that monkey helmet you have on, I beg to differ," she said.

He shrugged, shoulders moving up and down. She wished she could see his face. "I'm not really saying anything except—except—" he faltered, and she urged him to keep going, come on, just say it, just say it, "Except, you know, stop moaning about the Avatar because you were never going to get him in the first place anyway."

She said dryly, "Thanks, Zuko."

"I'm just saying there are bigger fish in the ocean. More powerful ones."

"Thanks." This time she meant it. She slipped her arms around his waist, and as they began moving off the beaten path back onto the main road, she slowly rested her head against his back, warm from the sun.

* * *

Comments: 

-Zuko's desperately OOC, but I consider this an improvement as this is the first thing I've written for the past 4 months.  
-Much thanks again to Mel for betaing on such short notice; I'm an ass for giving my betas like 2 hour deadlines and Mel puts up with my overdramatics and moaning and groaning and she's amazing.  
-CONGRATS ON GRADUATING LYN.  
-Yaay! Writer's Block now beginning to lift. I see hope on the horizon.


	21. The Origin of Love

**"You had a way so familiar,  
But I could not recognize  
Cause you had blood on your face;  
I had blood in my eyes."**  
--The Origin of Love by Rufus Wainwright

_**Title:** The Origin of Love  
**Author:** RedNovember_

* * *

**I. Hello**

"Master Waterbender Katara is here, your Majesty," announced the servant, leading her through the glass-paned doors, out into the garden. Katara stopped behind and slightly to the right of him, silent and beginning to feel the heat of the Fire Nation through her thin blue robe. Such familiar warmth.

There was no answer from the figure sitting in the straight-backed chair, facing out towards the landscape. Katara could just see the top of his head; unmoving, unnoticing.

"… your Majesty?" the servant tried again, giving Katara a quick, nervous look from the corner of his eye.

Silence. A small bird trilled from somewhere within the blooming flowers in the garden.

The servant took a deep breath, a pained look on his face: "Your Majesty—"

Katara put a hand on his arm. "It's all right," she said. "You can go now."

He scuttled from the garden, relieved to be leaving, and closed the doors behind him.

Katara curled and uncurled her fingers inside the long sleeves of her robes. Sweat was beginning to gather on her palms. Oh, the heat.

She took a few steps closer, until she was right behind the silk-encased back of the chair. She could see the bright embroidery on the upholstery—a fantastic dragon and phoenix swirled and looped over the sides and across the armrests. A pale hand, strong and defined, rested on the phoenix's golden head.

"You have a beautiful garden here, Zuko," she said quietly, hands folded in front of her. She kept her eyes on the back of his head, on the jet-black strands of hair pulled sharply back from his forehead and into a topknot. He didn't move—he didn't turn to look at her, didn't turn to see her.

"Zuko," she tried again. "Zuko, I'm _here_."

I'm here. I'm _finally_ here—which was what she'd wanted to say in the first place, but couldn't—I'm here. I know I'm late. A year late. Forever late. But I'm here.

The hand on the armrest curled, drawing in and forming a tight fist—covering the jewel-bright eye of the phoenix.

Blinding it.

* * *

**II. Older and Wiser**

"He won't talk to me," she said tightly.

Ursa turned, rolling up the scroll she had been reading. She slipped it into a hidden pocket, and met Katara's eyes.

"He's hurt, Katara," said Zuko's mother, patting the seat next to her on the rim of the fountain. Katara sat. She always found it strange that the Fire Palace would have something as out of place as a _water_ fountain in the royal gardens—but then again, Ursa wasn't one to follow decorum. Something that applied to her son as well.

"It's hard for him," Ursa said. "You leaving him, Katara—you leaving him was the second time in his life that a woman he loved more than anything else in the world left him behind."

"I had a reason!"

"And I didn't?"

This made Katara feel like a petulant child. They were silent for a moment, before Ursa spoke again. "I do believe that your coming back will help him. It will take time; a long time, perhaps time that you don't have, if you need to go back to the Avatar—"

"You still think that? Does everyone still think that Aang means more to me than Zuko?"

"You gave everyone reason to think it, when you made your choice before the battle."

When I chose the Avatar and left Prince Charming behind.

* * *

**III. Delicate**

This time, she dragged a chair outside, brushing off the frenzied servant who tried to help her. She set it down, carefully, next to the quiet man who sat unmoving in his seat.

They sat there together. An hour, two hours—half the day, before Katara started talking.

You have a beautiful garden, Zuko. Everything smells wonderful, and the colors; oh the colors. Did you plant it? Did you help make it? Did you do it alone? Or was it here already, before you were born?

Sokka says hi, and to remind you to keep up your boomerang practice, the drills he taught you before, before—and Aang sends his greetings. He hopes you're feeling alright, and if you need help, he has a few friends in the Northern Tribes who are amazing healers, can just about bring a man back from the dead (Katara didn't mention her own healing abilities; didn't touch him, didn't try to).

In the middle of all this drivel, Zuko stood up, slowly, carefully, from his chair and walked towards a trellis, entwined with green vines and blossoming white flowers. Katara watched from behind him as he carefully cupped one in his hands, bending forward to breathe deeply from its petals, a quiet expression on his face.

He turned, beckoning her over with one hand, a small wave of the fingers, and she joined him, sliding one finger over the petals and down to his palm, across the lines that fortunetellers used to predict love, life and happiness—

He dropped the flower and moved away.

* * *

**IV. This Land is My Land**

One year ago, the Fire Nation Palace.

_"Ozai's in the Earth Kingdom," Aang shouted, fists clenched at his sides. His monk's robes whipped around him in a flurry of wind. "I'm certain of it!"_

_"I know my father, Aang!" Zuko shot back, voice hard with intensity, "I know my father, and whoever your informant is, he's lying! Fire Lord Ozai would never pull a stunt like that; his tactics and strategies are different. I learned everything from him, and everything I know about him tells me your information is wrong."_

_"He knows that!" yelled Aang. "So he's doing something so drastically different this time that he knows you'd never believe it."_

_"I'm not leaving," Zuko said, stepping back, a mask descending over his face. "I'm not leaving, and you're not taking my men with you to fight some imaginary enemy halfway around the world."_

_Aang smiled, a smile that didn't fit his child's face. "They're not your men anymore, Zuko. You don't have an army. When we captured this palace from your father and drove him out, everything was taken in the name of the Avatar. You don't have anything, no matter how often you sit in your father's throne, no matter how many people call you Prince Zuko, no matter how you might wish you could be the next Fire Lord. You have nothing."_

_A silence descended upon the room. Zuko's face was unreadable._

_Katara closed her eyes._

_When she opened them again, only she and Aang were left in the room._

* * *

**V. Fools in Love**

_"He's wrong," Zuko's voice was almost a hiss in the darkness. "He's wrong, and he's too much of an arrogant asshole to admit it."_

_Katara silently continued to drag the brush through her hair. She stared into the mirror, where she could see the reflection of the bed behind her. Zuko was on his side underneath the covers, staring out the window at the palace grounds._

_"I know my father," he continued, every word punctuated with a sort of hatred—hatred for himself?—"And I know my father would never do what Aang said he is doing. Ozai's not in the Earth Kingdom. He's somewhere else, getting ready for something bigger, and when it all comes crashing down, the Avatar will be galloping like a fool through the Earth Kingdom's shit-filled deserts, wondering where the Fire Lord is. And nobody will be here to stop my father."_

_Katara set down her brush—the sound of ivory on wood clicked too loudly in the velvet darkness of the room. She looked up into the mirror, and saw Zuko's eyes staring at her from the bed. Before she could avert her eyes, she caught the expression on his face. He was looking at her but at the same time, he wasn't—he was only looking at what she represented, at what she could give him, at everything that seemed to be Katara but wasn't._

_"Come here."_

_On any other night, she might have quipped back with some smart-ass or even flirtatious comment: "Come and get me, then," or "Don't tell me what to do, Princess Zuko."_

_But tonight, she merely slipped silently across the floor and under the covers. His arms drew her close, and he buried his face in her neck. He said, "I don't have nothing. I don't have nothing, do I, Katara?"_

_"No, you don't, Zuko," she whispered, eyes searching through the darkness above the bed._

_He sighed into her skin._

_So she told him what he wanted to hear: "You have me, Zuko."_

* * *

**VI. Fill This Empty Space**

"_Ready, Katara?" Aang asked as he crouched down next to her at the stern of the metal-hulled Fire Navy ship, the boilers and engines below decks rumbling and coming to life and breaking the silence of the early dawn. _

_Katara pulled her cloak in closer to herself. "Of course I am."_

_"I'm glad you decided to come. Did Zuko understand?" The last part was a bit awkward as it left Aang's mouth. _

_Katara gave a short nod, eyes not meeting his._

_"Oh—okay," Aang said, standing up and moving to a different subject, "We're having a meeting in about an hour with Captain Ji and the other commanders. If you find Sokka, tell him to come too."_

_She nodded again. _

_"Katara." Aang's childlike voice penetrated her thoughts. "Katara, I am very glad you decided to come. I know it must have been hard. Thank you."_

_When the ship pulled out of harbor, she didn't allow herself to look back._

* * *

**VII. To The Moon and Back**

He's hurt, Katara. He hurt when you decided to leave with Aang for the final battle. He hurt when you left in the night, when you left without a kiss, without a hug, without a goodbye. He hurt when he read your note, read your broken promise and read your lies.

He hurt when he faced his own father, realizing that the Avatar truly had been called away by false information. The Fire Lord wasn't waiting with his army in the Earth Kingdom; he was here, in the palace, and the only one left with him was Zuko.

He hurt when he fought the Fire Lord and Azula; when he, somehow, defeated both and left his father and sister dead on the floor of the throne room. He hurt when he walked across the gore-stained marble, took the crown from above his father's dead, staring eyes, and set the bloody thing on his own head. He hurt when he took the Queen's flame from Azula's bloody, singed hair, when he took it and hid it away, away, away, for a woman who had already left him.

He hurt when he learned of his uncle's death, brought by a stranger, a courier, when it should have been brought by you.

He hurt when the Avatar came for his coronation, made his peace, and you didn't. He hurt when Sokka came for a visit one winter, and you didn't.

He hurt when his father, in the last moments of his life, blasted away the untouched side of his face—destroying his eyes, his vision. He hurt when he realized, afterwards, that he'd never be able to see you again, but he held on to the thought that maybe he would touch you, once more, a thousand times more, when you finally came back.

You're late.

* * *

**VIII. Open Your Eyes**

This was the way it happened.

She spent days on end with him, in that garden. She described the colors and the birds she saw. Sometimes Ursa joined them, sometimes not. The Fire Lord's mother had important matters to attend to, business of state, things she took care of while the Lord Zuko recuperated and rested in the garden.

Slowly, they began to connect again. She spoke of old memories, of Iroh, of Aang, of Sokka. She spoke of new things, of the new ice palace construction in the Southern Water tribes, helped by their sister tribe from the North. The idea of a royal family was still uncertain, but since Prince Aningan, the last of the Southern royal family, had been killed in the Fire Nation attack so many years ago, the tribes had decided to elect a new leader. Word was, Sokka was in the running and the most popular candidate so far.

"It's gotten to his head, the idea of becoming King Sokka," Katara said, a small smile on her face as she watched Zuko where he lay on the grass, his face turned upwards towards an overreaching vine of orange blossoms above him. "He sent for me—he wants me to go back, to help him govern, if he wins the election."

Nothing changed in the garden—the flowers went on waving in the breeze, the birds went on chirping—but a stillness, a deadly stillness overcame them (his facial expression never changed, but there was a tightening, quick and painful).

Then she said: "But don't worry, I'm not going. Sokka can manage well enough on his own; and Suki will visit, she'll help him. He doesn't need me."

You need me.

The tension in the air slowly eased, and she was happy that there had been a reaction, tiny as it was, and uncomfortable as it was, because it meant she was reaching him. That there was finally a connection again.

Perhaps, he was just beginning to forgive her.

* * *

**IX. The Origin of Love**

Katara stared at the beautiful, inlaid wood of the closed door. Her hand rested on the cold metal knob, and she shook as she pressed down, heard the click, and pushed, allowing a dim shaft of light to shine through to the other side.

She opened it far enough to slip inside, then closed it again behind her. A bit of pale moonlight illuminated the room, and her eyes were drawn to the shape under the covers, on the side of the bed closest to the windows.

Somehow, she made it across the room. Somehow, she lifted herself onto the bed and under the covers. Somehow, she managed to get close enough to see his eyes were open, the empty gold irises turned towards the window. But he couldn't see the full moon outside, nor could he see her crumbling expression. But she didn't doubt that he was awake, and knew she was there.

She laid her head down on the pillow next to his. One hand slowly made contact with his bare shoulder—she slid down his arm, until she reached the warmth of his half-closed palm. He didn't move.

Katara slid closer, until her nose was just below his ear, her lips pressed against his neck. "I'm so sorry."

Her whisper echoed in the space between them, and they lay there together, for seconds, for hours, forever—

—until she felt his fingers close over her hands; until she felt him sigh and un-tense; until she felt her own, final, release.

_End._

* * *

**Notes: **This was written almost a year ago and posted on my Livejournal. I was looking through all my old writing on and on lj, and I realized I'd never posted this here. Here are my original notes from my lj post, dated November 2006: 

A long long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, Rashaka came up with a challenge with various song lyrics in the Zutara community, and I began a short reply. I can't find the original entry where she posed the challenge because it was from such a long time ago, so I'm not positive if I fulfilled all requirements. But yesterday, about 6 months from the day of her challenge, I finished it. First thing I've truly _written_ in almost a year that wasn't a) for school or b) in my journal.

**1)** Many thanks to** kawaiilyn **and** melodiee** for their super-quick-amazing beta skillz.  
**2)** I think all the segment titles from the third one on are names of songs, or from songs. If anyone wants, i'll upload a zip of those  
**3) **When I think of them, the characters are about 3-5 years older than canon, but that doesn't make sense because Aang really only has this summer to defeat the Fire Nation. Whatever.  
**4) **And it's a total 'omg zuko joined teh aang gaang yeaaaah!!!11!' cliche but. Whatever.


End file.
